The Persistence of Memory
by TBear Archived
Summary: Jaune Arc hadn't even known what a semblance was when he had awakened his in the Emerald Forest. The memories of one Naruto Uzumaki, greatest hero to have ever been, seemed to be quite the strange thing indeed - especially when he didn't understand their implications. Mom always said that identity crisis came with schooling.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

 **So, if you keep up with any of my other fics, then this is the story that I hinted at. A kind of twist on a 'Naruto as Jaune' idea that I've been throwing around for awhile now. This chapter is kind of a big deal for me, it showcases everything that I've learned about writing over the past two months that I haven't posted.**

 **Huge shout out to my beta Enbi. She helped go over this chapter and spent quite a bit of time helping me flesh it out properly.**

 **Also want to shout out EndoplasmicPanda and Dakeyras for helping me with my writing. Both of them make some pretty quality content. On the off chance you haven't read their stuff, you should really go check them out.**

 **Hopefully you enjoy it.**

* * *

Naruto never understood what Shikamaru found enjoyable about watching clouds.

Laying on a rock surface, one that he presumed to be Madara's head, he stared up at the sky and hated the entire experience.

It probably had something to do with his arm. His right arm, or to be more specific, the one which was currently missing.

Yeah. That might've had a little to do with it.

He was going to die here, not that it bothered him much. He didn't fear death, never had and it seemed that he never would.

"Yo Sasuke, you still alive over there?"

He watched Sasuke open an eye, glancing at him out its corner. His only show of acknowledgment being a grunt.

"It looks like we really did a number on one another, huh?"

A cough bubbled forth in Naruto's throat, and he hacked up blood onto the stone. A bit of it had pelted Sasuke in the face, giving him a new reason to grin. He was glad that he and death could team up to pester his old rival.

He noted Sasuke's glare, and if his body had been responsive enough to shrug, he would've. But hey, battles to the death tended to put you in a state like this.

He heard a sigh escape from Sasuke's lips.

"You did it Naruto, you beat me," Sasuke said, a light breeze picking up and stirring the ends of his hair. "You've won, it's over now."

Naruto snorted. "It was never about beating you, ya idiot! It was about trying to protect the people that you were trying to hurt. You make it sound like some sort of pissing contest, that ain't it at all!"

In reply, all Sasuke did was grunt and look away. Naruto laughed to himself, thinking that Sasuke's response was pretty fitting of... well, Sasuke.

Then the pain came back.

Honestly, calling it a return wasn't fitting; the pain had never left, instead it had numbed for a time, almost as if he had gotten acclimated towards it.

It hurt, oh did it hurt.

It would come and go in waves, feeling dull at points, but then stabbing, surging forward in a way that was impossible to ignore. It wasn't just his arm, but the entirety of his body. Several bones were fractured at the very least and it wouldn't be too far of a guess to think that some of them had been outright crushed.

One of his ribs had shattered during the fight, splintering and piercing several of his internal organs. That seemed the best answer for why he was coughing up blood.

Not that he minded that part. Getting spittle on Sasuke's face wasn't worth nearly as much.

It wouldn't be much longer now. With both his and Sasuke's arms pooling blood like busted well pumps; it was easy enough to surmise that the end was drawing near- for the both of them.

With time running low, Naruto had to make a decision. He hoped and prayed that Sakura would arrive on time, somehow being able to save them. He hoped that Sasuke would come back to Konoha. He hoped that they would all be able to be Team Seven. He hoped that they would all make it out alive.

It seemed that even that was too much to hope for.

Someone had to end the infinite Tsukuyomi and Naruto had no idea who else could. Holding onto the hope that Sakura would even be able to save Sasuke now seemed moot.

Now was a time for realism. Even if Sakura arrived on time, he doubted that she would be able to help. No, he knew that the only way to save Sasuke, the only way to lift the infinite genjutsu, was to use the last of his chakra and save his friend.

It seemed that he would have to save Sasuke.

A groan escaped from his lips, his one open eye closing. He loved Sasuke, they were brothers, but if Naruto did this he _knew_ he would die.

God, he felt like a hypocrite. Everyone feared death, even himself.

It was one thing to hold onto the hope that Sakura would arrive, but if she didn't, the world would have little chance. No, this was something that he had to do.

It was funny in a way; Naruto had heard story after story from his old sensei about war and battle. All of those damn stories, and he had heard a lot of them, but no one had ever told him how hard it was to move after fighting a god or two.

Naruto Uzumaki, greatest shinobi in the world, hero of the elemental nations—and he couldn't help but compare himself to a slug as he tried to get onto his stomach.

In hindsight, rolling over his stub of an arm hadn't been the best idea.

The pain had come and gone in waves earlier. Now, the pain was immense, forcing him to grit his teeth; his arm—or what remained of it—was sensitive and felt like a roaring inferno was licking at it.

He knew Sasuke was staring at him. This was what he deserved, going out of his way to help this bastard, nothing but mockery and pain. It was so unfair.

Now on his stomach, Naruto reached out with his left arm, placing his hand on Sasuke's midsection, that action alone making his entire body scream in protest. With his hand in place, chakra surging forward, coating his arm in a glowing orange.

He could feel the drain on his already near-empty reserves. No doubt, this would be his last sacrifice.

"Sorry Sasuke, you'll have to become Hokage for the both of us."

It was corny, oh god, was it corny. If the situation wasn't so serious he would've made a joke or two about his last words. They sucked… they sucked bad.

Regardless, he watched Sasuke's eye widen, his breaths coming in short gasps. Naruto wished his chest hurt less; he could get a good chuckle out of Sasuke taking those words seriously.

"Naruto stop!" Sasuke yelled, eyes widening as the terrible realization of what he was about to do dawned on him. "You don't have to do this! We can hold out for Sakura, she'll make it in time!"

Both of them knew that wasn't true.

"Sorry Sasuke, but you need to make it through this. Save the world, you're the only one that can, y'know?"

Naruto wished he could laugh at the situation. Even in the throes of death, his verbal tic was making itself known.

"Become the greatest Hokage, for the both of us."

With those final words, Naruto closed his eyes, dying as he had lived; protecting those that were dear to him.

* * *

The shield was a weapon—yet it wasn't.

Perhaps that was why Jaune Arc loved it so. He could use it offensively, but its primary purpose was to protect.

He aspired to be like his shield, wanting nothing more than to protect people, hoping to achieve recognition from his family and those around him. He had always wanted to be a hero.

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality."

Jaune Arc released a slow breath, his nerves trying to make themselves known. Now he had the chance; the chance to be like his shield—the chance to become a hero.

"A paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all."

A calmness washed over him. His heart rate steadied, his eyes closed, and he felt in tune with the world around him. It was like he had connected to nature, being able to hear the sounds of it, and feel it—not only on his body, but through him.

Being in touch with nature felt so… different. It was if his worries had washed away, holding no root in reality. Those problems felt like they were never rooted at all, simply there, for he and everyone else to ignore.

"Infinite in distance and unbound by death."

An energy flooded him, one that he knew didn't belong to him. It felt warm, compassionate, yet also reluctant.

Pyrrha had told him that Aura came from the soul. He could feel how her very being reflected through it, her emotions, her entire _being_ shone through the energy that had invaded his senses.

"I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."

When Pyrrha's hand disconnected from his shoulder, his aura awakened, and it felt amazing.

And the implications— _it shields our hearts,_ Pyrrha had told him—he had become like his shield.

"I used my Aura to unlock your own and the energy that protects your now is yours," Pyrrha said, offering him an easy-going smile. "You have a lot of it."

Jaune lifted his hands, admiring his new glow. It not only looked cool, but if filled him with a strength that he had never known to be present, coming off of him in waves and giving him senses that he hadn't even known he had.

He wiped his finger across his face. The scratch from the tree was all but gone. For a moment, he marveled.

But suddenly the smell of ramen invaded his nose.

Jaune didn't have much experience with the foreign food, but the salted beef broth made for a distinct odor.

He blinked, the forest around him immediately replaced by some sort of warm-wood stand with an older man behind the counter, wearing a chef hat. Then another man, one clothed in a green vest with a scar running across his nose, caught his attention.

Hand extended, he ruffled Jaune's hair, and the entire time he could do nothing but gape.

' _Holy crap! This dude is massive,'_ he couldn't help but think. Jaune considered himself pretty tall for his age, standing a bit over six foot, but even he had to crane his neck upwards just to look at this man!

As soon as it had appeared, the spectre faded away, almost like it had never been present to begin with. The smell of ramen vanished, replaced by the fragrance of the tree sap and the nature around them.

Everything had returned; the normalcy of the woods, the quiet chirping of the birds and the sound of the wind running through the tall grass. The most startling contrast being the temperature. The stand had felt hot, stuffy in a way that was indicative of the venue, but now he could feel the cool wind on his face.

Jaune shook his head. What was that, earlier?

He shouldn't have been thinking about these types of things, he had an objective.

"Pyrrha!" he called, attempting to get the attention of his teammate. He started to jog, hoping that he could catch up to her.

They still had to find the relics after all.

* * *

Jaune had once heard that when you were about to die, your life would flash before your eyes. But this was not the case, at least not for him.

He'd never expected anything to happen when he had forged his credentials to get into Beacon. Even now, making his way across the bridge with the hammer girl, he couldn't help but think that this entire situation wasn't real.

It was too surreal, like he had been thrust into one of his fantasies. He was playing the role of the gallant knight, fighting against the creature of Grimm, bringing glory to his family name. The only difference now was that he didn't have the skill that he usually did when he was 'playing hero'.

No, this time he was grounded in reality.

People here were depending on him. His partner, his friend Ruby, and even the other students; all of their survivals hinged on everyone working cohesively in this situation. He would have to remain strong, for all of them.

He surged forward, using his shield to block the strike of the death-stalker, one aimed at his partner. He winced, his arm heavy and numb from the weight behind the blow.

He noticed that Pyrrha was safe, but she'd tumbled, thrown away by the other pincer. His refocused on his enemy, only for his breath to hitch.

The death-stalker's stinger had risen and it was poised to strike directly at him.

He couldn't move. His body remained locked into place, his mouth had gone dry, and he could feel perspiration break out on his back.

All within a fraction of a second—funny how encroaching death made you hyper sensitive of everything around you. He noticed that no one was in close enough proximity to help him; he was all alone. A day late and a dollar short.

Not even a week away from home and it seemed he wouldn't be making it back. Jaune was sure his father would be proud.

He heard Pyrrha scream. She was the easiest to differentiate. He had even heard something from Ren and Nora, but his body wouldn't respond. His muscles felt tight and unresponsive, he was sure that there was no way to move.

Time had never felt so slow.

His eyes watched the stinger move towards him, hissing through the air. It was the end of him.

Jaune had once heard that when you were about to die, your life would flash before your eyes. But this was not been the case, at least not for him.

Instead he witnessed the life of someone that he had never known, someone that he had never heard of. Someone named Naruto Uzumaki.

He wasn't sure what he saw exactly; everything happened so fast.

Jaune was no longer watching the encroaching stinger; no, he was now watching something amazing. A fight between a warrior that could summon the wind in his hands, throw it, and cause landscape-altering explosions.

He watched the same warrior talk with the man who had threatened his home, forgiving him in a way that Jaune wasn't sure anyone was able. Their wills had clashed and he had learned the story of Naruto Uzumaki— _the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi_.

Was this what it meant to be a hero? Had his aspirations been false all along?

The vision ended and reality returned. Once more he found himself at death's door. The stinger of his enemy approaching.

The stinger drew nearer and then it was gone; his arm outstretched, the appendage of the grimm was on the ground—wildly flailing about.

It took Jaune a handful of seconds to realize what had happened.

A foreign energy had moved throughout his body. It had started at his core, moving outwards towards his arm and through his blade.

It wasn't aura. No, this energy felt unique-distinct in a way different from aura. Where aura felt tame the new energy had felt uncontrollable.

When it hit his sword, something changed. The wind had kicked up around it, blowing in wild directions, and the blade had cleaved straight through the tail with ease-running through and removing it from the body of the death-stalker.

He stood there, rooted in position. He had watched the light-blue film retreat from his blade and disappear as if it had never been there. All he could do was remain still, mesmerized.

And just like that, he couldn't breathe.

All air that had been in his lungs had expelled, the death-stalker that he had forgotten about making its move, striking him.

The blunt side of its claw had hit him hard in the stomach, forcing all air from his lungs and sending him straight into the dirt. Jaune had never wanted to become so intimate with the ground. It had never been on his list of priorities.

His vision was bleary, he couldn't stand, and his entire body felt like it was on fire. A grand situation to wrap up such a grand evening.

His vision suddenly became dark. Something was blocking the sun. Oh yeah, he was in the middle of a fight.

Jaune rolled, getting away from his impending doom.

Not a second too soon; the ground next to him had undergone an upheaval and thrown him into a tumbling frenzy.

He stood, legs shaking, while Ren attempted to draw its attention.

"Pyrrha!" He shouted, his voice coming out rough and scratchy in a way that seemed unnatural. "Give Nora a boost!"

The plan had seemed to click in an instant. Pyrrha had nodded and a manic grin had stretch across Nora's face.

They had moved in sync. Pyrrha set herself low, using her shield as a platform for Nora to jump on and project herself off of. Once in the air she had propelled herself further, using her launcher, and then using it once more on her descent—increasing her momentum and causing the strike to rip through the exoskeleton like paper.

He grinned to himself at the display. Stumbling over to his father's shield, picking it up and strapping it, along with his Crocea Mors, to his waist.

His entire body felt destroyed by that fight, his legs felt unsteady, and his arm numb in a way that he didn't think possible.

But they had done it, they had defeated a death-stalker.

Even watching Ruby kill a nevermore in the coolest fashion ever, her scythe ripping the head off of the elder-grimm in a gruesome display, Jaune was still proud of what he and his new friends had accomplished.

He had stared death in the face and cut off its stinger. Jaune felt like it was quite the heroic accomplishment.

He watched Ren flop down on the ground next to him. "Wake me up when this is over."

Yep, nothing strange for this hero.

* * *

"Russel Thrush, Cardin Winchester, Dove Bronzewing, and Sky Lark; the four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day forward you will be known as team CRDL—led by, Cardin Winchester."

Ozpin paused, looking at the four boys that he had put on the same team together. But no, he thought, that wasn't quite right. Because they were boys no longer.

They were warriors, now. Hunters in the making. Childhood had ended for them the moment that they had signed on for this academy, most definitely by the time that they found themselves in the Emerald Forest.

His eyes then drifted to one point of interest throughout this entire adventure; one Jaune Arc, only male son of the Arc family.

Ozpin had been reluctant to accept Jaune at first, seeing the poor quality fake transcript on his desk. But when he had read the name, found out who exactly was faking their way into Beacon?

He had all but double downed, increasing his already substantial gambles. He could see himself at the blackjack table in some seedy casino, playing against the queen—putting everything onto these two students.

It might not have been the brightest of decisions. Jaune Arc had no training. But if he turned out like any of his ancestors, or even his father, Ozpin was sure to get his money's worth.

So far, his bet had paid off. His initial reaction, and gut feeling, had not been promising, but then the engagement in the woods had happened.

Jaune Arc had separated the tail of a death-stalker with little effort.

Ozpin knew that if his poker face wasn't so strong, a grin would've split his face at that exact moment.

He had never expected to see something like that in his lifetime. He had never expected to have a student with such an unknown ability.

Ozpin was glad that he had accepted the boy into Beacon, after all, he had turned away promising candidates.

Anyway, this ceremony had to continue.

"Jaune Arc, Lie Ren, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie; the four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as team JNPR."

A small smile graced his lips, turning his eyes to meet the boy who had intrigued him so much during the initiation.

"Led by Jaune Arc."

The boy seemed stunned, mumbling to himself, but it hadn't phased Ozpin in the slightest. "Congratulations young man."

This time the faintest of smiles did pull on Ozpin's lips as he watched the Nikos girl punch her partner in the shoulder, sending him stumbling in quite the comical fashion.

His attention turned towards the other students that he would be assigning to a team, or at least, the one that was on his mind. One Ruby Rose.

He wasn't sure about how this team dynamic would function. They had worked together well in the forest, but he was sure egos would play some sort of role.

He hoped that this team could become something great. He truly thought that they could.

The visage of a team he had once taught lingered on their forms, a team that he had created much like this one, and had failed. A light sigh escaped his lips. No one here knew his tells, but he felt his right eyebrow twitch at the thought.

Ozpin wouldn't make the same mistakes this time.

A creature of habit he may be, but he refused to fail a group so similar, so promising, once more.

Some of the strongest of the generation culminated on this stage right now, between the girl with silver eyes and Mistral's champion; he saw a chance here. A chance to finish what had started so long ago.

Ozpin knew that he was making his team, knew that these eight children would shoulder great burdens to come, and he hoped they would be ready. He had seen great teams rise and he had seen great teams fall. Preparedness was key, several teams had been ready for the responsibilities thrust upon them.

Team STRQ hadn't been.

Maybe this time, things would be different.

"Blake Belladonna, Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, and Yang Xiao-Long; the four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward, the four of you will work together as team RWBY."

He paused, taking a breath, and looked down the row at each member of this new unit. What he was about to say would not bother one member.

"Led by, Ruby Rose."

Surprise sprang to each of the members faces. One by one, he watched each of their faces morph, each one betraying something different.

From bafflement with the young girl herself, to more of an objection with the girl that was her partner—it was almost painful to watch in a way. Seeing students go through things like this, well, it was never fun.

He watched the girl's half-sister embrace her in a hug and a sigh came from his lips.

"Looks like things are shaping up to be an interesting year." He turned his head upwards, looking out one of the various windows, and looked at the moon.

He drew parallels to himself and the white (broken) ball in the sky on occasion. He had shattered in a similar fashion, and he wasn't sure if he would ever put himself back together again.

All he could do was push onward and hope that he gave a brighter future to the younger generation.

Instill his experience with them, hoping they didn't make the same mistakes.

No matter what, this year would be interesting at the very least.

 **Chapter End**

 **Author's Note:**

 **I have about half of the next chapter done, I'll keep information up on my profile showing how close it is to being finished.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:  
** **  
Important news! I have a discord! It's a Naruto crossover themed discord, and the code is 4RDsK9J. Feel free to join.**

 **The chapter is done, and this should be giving you a more reasonable expectation from this story. The first chapter doesn't have much, but this one certainly does. Keep in mind to keep touch on my profile if you're interested in the progression of my other stories!**

 **On another note, the reviewers that are complaining about me not working on other projects, please stop. My reading story has been adopted by Dylan Millwood, so it isn't something that I'm working on anymore. The rewrite for "Son of Salem", known as "Progeny" is being worked on and should be out by mid—March. My goal is to update that next.**

I'd also like to give a shoutout to greenflamesburn. He's in the discord, and he had an idea similar to mine. He published a Fate and RWBY crossover with a similar premise. He's newer at this and you should go check it out.

* * *

Today was going to be a good day.

It was one of those gut-feelings, something that you just _knew_. At least, this had been the case for Jaune Arc when he had awoken.

He sat up in his bed, stretching his back and cracking his neck, a small smile beginning to form. He might've had three roommates now, but this was nowhere near as noisy as his home.

Jaune was sure it had something to do with his sisters—or in this case, the lack thereof. The first light of dawn shone through the window in front of the single desk in the room; the sounds of birds chirping in the background created a distinct, but rather pleasing melody.

But even in the glow of morning, Jaune felt… off. It was hard to place a finger on, but something was unsettling him. His eyes closed and a shiver ran up his spine; goosebumps began to rise on his skin and a chill frosted the room.

What was that? What was bothering him so much? The sound of birds became more and more prevalent to his ears; all other static fell into the background—the single noise building up tension, drawing his attention, demanding it in a way that screamed, 'look at me!'

Suddenly, it became very hard to breathe.

The first thing that came to mind was a river. The stormy waters broke over him, knocking him around, pushing his head under the surface.

 _Drowning_.

Further down and down he went, body heavy, breathing brisk. He felt so attentive, so alert, but he didn't know why. He didn't know why he was feeling this way, didn't know why his entire body felt coiled and tight—

(Birds chirping, birds chirping, birds chirping— _why couldn't they shut up!?_ )

—and then he was on the ground, his back bent at an awkward angle, his head having hit the carpeted floor. He was dazed, but after his breathing steadied he was able to figure out what had happened.

Well… he hadn't expected that.

He glanced out of the corner of his eyes, making sure that he hadn't awakened any of his teammates.

Standing up, attempting to make no noise, Jaune made his way towards the bathroom. Not a single member of his team was awake yet, which was good. He didn't want to disturb any of them. Jaune had no desire to pester anyone and desired even less for his friends to learn about his… breakdown.

He grabbed his clothing from the chest of drawers, and his hand shook uncontrollably as he reached to pull on the door handle. Only one thing was on his mind.

What the hell was that?

He wanted to question it, wanted to lose control, but he couldn't. It was almost as if something was stopping him—forcing him to remain calm through the situation even though he shouldn't have been able to.

His emotions came reined in, his face became calm, and nothing he did betrayed what he felt. But he knew, deep down inside he knew what he was feeling, knew his insecurities, knew the problems that could arise.

Those thoughts terrified him in a way that he hadn't know possible.

His father had not offered him much advice throughout his life. The man hadn't wanted Jaune to become a hunter, and now he had come to respect that decision.

He had never felt so uncertain. He opened the door, and even as he kept moving, kept going, he could still feel his trepidation, his reluctance, his overall fear of the current situation. Jaune walked into the bathroom, his thoughts on the future and the way that it headed; he worried, of that there was no doubt, and the possible anxiety attack that he had moments prior wasn't helping in the slightest.

Jaune closed the door and tried to resolve himself; he wanted to push forward and enjoy this day. The start had been rough, but hey, that was only a small drop in the bucket. He still had an entire day to go through.

Once more, wise words of his father struck a chord in his mind, something that the man had told him time and time again.

' _Honestly son, what's the worst that could happen?'_

* * *

Today was a terrible day.

Jaune Arc had _known_ this was going to happen. From the very start he had known that this day would devolve and become something terrible.

When he had awoken this morning he had felt as much. He remembered sitting up in bed and releasing a sigh—a sigh that sounded so dejected and forlorn that it hurt him down to his very core to remember.

Had it been raining? Jaune shook his head, looking down at his blank notepad. He couldn't remember if he was being honest. It just seemed to fit the mood. It helped that it also went hand-in-hand with his sullen disposition.

For some reason, the sound of birds seemed to relate to the rain for him. Two statues carved into a mountain face came to mind; neither of them were recognizable, but something about them called out to him, screamed at him to remember them and their relevance.

One of his hands shot into his pocket, thumbing one of the leaves that he now kept there.

It calmed him. His breathing steadied, his eyes closed, and he felt his heart-rate slow. He had walked outside after his morning… _episode_ earlier, and found himself under one of the large oaks that they kept on campus. It had called to him, beckoned him forward, and the leaves that fell from the tree had perked his interest—drawn him in like a moth to a flame.

Even now he took comfort in these leaves. It sounded silly, but they made him feel safe. It was as if he was still at home; he could see the towering deciduous trees and smell the sap that they produced in the warm summer sun.

He had never felt as alone as he did now.

"I do sir!"

Jaune snapped to attention, drawn back to the lesson that he had been ignoring.

It wasn't the best of ideas—he could easily admit as much—but at the same time, this lesson was so drab. It was in large part due to the professor. The man rambled on and on, doing nothing more than talking about himself and his accomplishments.

It seemed that Weiss Schnee had volunteered for something. Jaune watched a smile—or what he assumed was one—pull at the Professor's lips, his thick mustache and closed eyes betraying nothing. Even from his angle in the back portion of the class, he could feel the tension and how it blanketed the room.

"Well then, let's find out. Step forward and face your opponent." The man gave a broad wave to a cage that was in a corner of the classroom, and even as Jaune glanced over he immediately became transfixed.

Angry red eyes peered out from behind bars of cold steel.

Cold sweat. Jaune's entire body began to perspire; it started with the back of his neck, but even his palms and brow fell victim.

He blinked; once, twice, three times. No longer was he in the classroom, but instead a storm drain, maybe even a sewer. His head turned downwards—an action initiated against his own volition—and peered into water that encompassed his ankles.

His body moved forward, something that he, once again, did not want to do. His hand found its way and pushed up against one of the stones that made up the wall.

He could feel it; the smooth texture of the stone, the rusted pipe that ran along the wall, but most importantly the impending sense of dread and doom—so thick and heavy that it seemed to contaminate the very air he breathed.

The scariest part was the voice. It whispered at him, drawing him in and telling him to come closer.

Then he saw it: the light at the end of the tunnel.

Never had Jaune thought that people meant that literally when they spoke of it, but here it was, staring him in the face. The brightness approached like encroaching dawn on the horizon, ensnaring Jaune in its embrace.

The light was blinding.

After he blinked, his eyes readjusted and went wide. The brilliance had diminished, the almost jarring sharpness of it fading, and in its place was one of the largest rooms Jaune had ever seen.

The ceiling spanned into infinity, going so high that he couldn't make out its end. His head turned, eyes taking in the stone and pipes, both of which seemed to conjoin into one specific location.

A large iron gate.

The stone seemed to be its building blocks and framing the side of the structure; the pipes had run inward and disappeared from view, but the gate was not so simple, not so… mundane.

It was immaculate. The inlay was crafted from wrought iron, stretching into the abyss that resided above him.

The paper that lay on the large gate attracted his eyes, drawing them in. But it wasn't the paper that he realized he was looking at, it was what he saw behind it.

Angry red eyes peered out from behind bars of cold steel.

And then it was all gone, replaced with the room that he had been in beforehand. The sewer, the dark stone, the rusted pipes, and even the beautiful inlay—all of it had felt so real, but all of it had faded away like some sort of heat-induced mirage.

The most noticeable change came in the air. It was easier to breathe now, the tension that had existed was all but gone.

His breathing was shallow, and he tried to find comfort in an odd source.

His hand clutched at one of the leaves he carried; his fingers began to rub up the spine, feeling every detail, every vein until he could practically picture it. It was if a spot in his mind had cleared away, everything else fading into the background.

There was only Jaune and the leaf. No cage, no monster, no red eyes.

He felt the energy from the fight in the woods move, surging outward, pushing away from him like a geyser.

"Chakra."

The name had all but come to him. It tasted distinct on his tongue, unlike the way such a foreign word should have sounded.

But this word wasn't foreign, he had been using it all his life. It was a part of him, much like his aura, and it screamed at him—almost if the energy had a mind of its own.

His eyes opened and he removed his hand from his pocket, a small smile gracing his face. The leaf had was no longer a singular piece. His chakra had moved through it, severing it at the spine, and breaking the leaf into two perfect halves.

"Alright, let the match begin!"

The sudden exclamation from the Professor brought Jaune's attention back to the class once again. He watched the large man swing his axe, breaking the lock.

A beast resembling a pig stalked out, its color dark, its eyes red. Another Grimm, one that Jaune recognized the professor speaking about during the lecture. A Boarbatusk, if he was remembering right.

For some reason, Jaune hated the color red.

He was sure that part of it was an eye thing, but something about the color unnerved him. It wasn't something that he'd considered before. But sitting there, looking at that thing down below, he couldn't help but think about how unnatural it seemed—how very inhuman.

Red eyes were a cursed thing; the color was only bred from hatred.

 _'Whenever you stare into someone's eyes, you stare into their soul.'  
_  
The words of his father came back, echoing throughout his mind, striking an odd chord that resounded heavy and hard. He thought of how he used to play the guitar. Was that an augmented chord? Perhaps a diminished?

Bah, he couldn't remember. His hand moved towards the back of his head, giving it a scratch. He supposed it didn't matter.

His eyes refocused on the color, everything else fading to static.

Red. It was all he saw, the only thing that stood out in the monochrome classroom. Jaune couldn't break his eyes away from it, away from the beast—not the battle.

Red eyes would spin, like the body of the boar in front of him—faster faster faster! They grew stronger from the hate that consumed them, the love that would turn into something unrecognizable, festering and eating away until nothing remained.

It was like delving into a deep pit; a blight so dark that there was no end, one that seemed to span into infinity.

 _That_ was the curse of hatred.

"Bravo! Bravo! It appears that we are indeed in the presence of a true huntress in training!"

Jaune shook his head, looking back at the fallout of the battle before him. Weiss kneeled next to the carcass of the Grimm, her rapier pierced through its chest, her head hung low.

Her eyes were defiant, but she wasn't fooling him, oh no… He could still hear her heavy breathing, even from this side of the classroom.

The fight was harder than she wanted to let on.

Jaune paid it no mind, opting instead to pull out another leaf. The cut came out clean, the slice happening with barely a thought.

He looked up, watching Weiss yell at Ruby and storm out of the room. All he could do was utter the first thing that came to mind.

"Sheesh, what's with her?"

* * *

Jaune Arc's screams came out muffled through his pillow.

Having run out of air, his head resurfaced and he gasped, but not long before plunging back in. Today had been absolutely abysmal; nothing short of a nightmare.

His team was out right now, getting dinner, and Jaune had opted to stay behind. He had used the excuse of not feeling well, hoping that he could get some alone time to understand what was going on.

He felt so drained. It was if all energy had left his body, exhaustion over taking him in a way that Jaune was unfamiliar with. He _wanted_ to sit here and think. But the reality was that he couldn't, his tiredness having far passed the point of being able to analyze anything in a coherent manner.

Now that he thought about it, screaming at his pillow hadn't been his best idea.

The day hadn't been eventful after the first class. He had gone from one class to another without incident.

But this morning, that was hard to forget.

Jaune had held it in all day; he had held in all his insecurities, held in all his problems, but right now—right now he wanted to scream. His teeth gnashed and he continued to lay there, resembling some kind of slug.

He _wanted_ to know why this was happening, _wanted_ to know how to fix it, but at the moment all he wanted to do was sleep the day away.

He was hungry and could easily admit as much. Sleep, though—sleep sounded so much better.

All energy left him and his eyes closed, finding the realm of Morpheus.

His problems weren't going anywhere.

* * *

"This _is_ the Hidden Leaf Village!"

Those words should have been meaningless. Jaune Arc had _never_ heard of a Hidden Leaf Village in his entire life. Yet those words held power—more so than they should've.

Pain. Indescribable pain flooded him. It was almost as if his entire life had come crashing down around him, his heart fracturing, and his head throbbing. He had never known pain like this could exist. Faces ran through his mind, one by one; he viewed everyone that he had held near and how each of them had died.

Wait… he didn't know any of these people. The images that went through his head, the faces that he was seeing; none of these were individuals that he knew, yet he could put a name to each and every one of them.

"It seems you saved us the trouble of finding you, Uzumaki Naruto."

What the hell? Naruto Uzumaki… the guy from the vision?

Jaune Arc might have been slow—he might have been clumsy—but even _he_ could tell what was going on right now.

Instead of watching what Naruto had accomplished like he had earlier, he was now experiencing the event _through_ Naruto. The body was the medium, the eyes were the windows, but the emotions were a shared experience.

Is this what Naruto had felt and dealt with during that amazing fight? Were these the trials that all heroes faced?

If so, Jaune wasn't so sure he had what it would take.

"Now might not be the right time to ask a question like this, but now that I've mastered Senjutsu, I'm able to sense everyone's chakra."

Jaune's—or, rather, Naruto's—teeth clinched, his emotions surging to life before the words could even come. Even though his voice remained so calm, Jaune could feel it; he could feel the reluctance to speak—the fear of what was to come.

"Is Kakashi-sensei on a mission away from the village?"

Tsunade's silence was all the confirmation that Naruto needed. "I see," he said; his voice sounding monotone, almost like he wasn't phased.

Tsunade might not have known better, but Jaune did. He could feel everything that Naruto felt—the pain, the sorrow, but most importantly the voice that was whispering into his ear. _'Release me boy. Set me free.'_

The Kyuubi no Kitsune.

A beast of the end times. The apocalyptic monolith resided within Naruto; he had held it back for his entire life, fighting against it, keeping it bound and protecting his village.

Even now the beast struggled against its cage.

The fight continued in much the same fashion as he had seen earlier. The whirling ball of death, the Rasenshuriken, and everything in between.

Throughout the battle, the portions that Jaune had missed earlier began to resonate within him. He felt like a fool now, having expected to become a hero for nothing more than fame and acknowledgment.

This was what it meant to be a hero. To throw away everything that you had, fight until you dropped, and do what was necessary—even against the pain that you felt.

The people around you would die if you didn't.

To experience things through the eyes of someone else, someone that was a hero, and live through their eyes was hard. In a situation like this, it was near impossible.

Everything in his life felt completely childish in comparison.

Jaune continued to watch, through the pain, through the suffering—to the point where Naruto lay on the ground, beaten down by the paths of Pain. It was over, he had lost, and he was now immobilized.

He was eating dirt at this point. One of the chakra rods that the paths of Pein used stabbed through his shoulder. Hinata lay in front of him, wounded and barely conscious.

Jaune didn't understand the concept of love.

He found that he was able to admit as much with ease. In that regard, he and Naruto shared something; neither of them understood love, neither of them understood intimacy.

That was why it was so much more painful.

The girl, Hinata, had given her heart to him on the battlefield. And now, she lay there in front of him, battered and bloodied.

"Why?" Naruto had asked, his eyes wide and a lack of understanding plastered across his face.

Whether he was referring to why she had declared her love or why she had taken the hit, not even he himself knew. Perhaps it was neither; perhaps it was both.

A smile crossed her face, blood pouring down her forehead, her body bashed and broken. "Because... that's my ninja way."

A heartbeat—neither spoke. Pein lifted her, through the use of his chakra, and Naruto felt his heart stop.

The Deva path rag—dolled her, throwing her upwards, dropping her onto the ground—impaling her with a rod once she landed on the earth's surface. She was dead; Jaune could tell that much.

A small breeze picked up, the wasteland that was once Konoha kicking up dirt, but not a sound was made.

Silence fell. It was if the entire world had quieted for Hinata.

Rage.

Fiery rage, hot as molten steel, bright as the midday sun.

The world grew white, the corners folding along the edges. The battlefield narrowed to a pin's breadth—narrowed on Hinata.

Naruto's subconscious—rational and sharp and _sane_ rattled inside his mind; the cage that comprised it had begun to fall apart.

It wasn't supposed to be like this! _He had failed to protect her!_

His vision bled away, and the silence gave way to a primal roar.

* * *

Eyes bolted open to a dark room.

Jaune breathed. In and out, in and out.

His lungs were aflame, his heart palpitated like the beat of a hummingbird's wings, and he felt like he was underwater. What was that? What had he witnessed?

He stumbled out of bed, fumbling his way to the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. Jaune winced, the door slamming, and forced himself to remember that he wasn't at home anymore; he had teammates that were sleeping.

The lights flashed on, the water in the sink started running, and he found himself in front of the mirror. His eyes were red, bloodshot from a lack of sleep, and his hair looked a mess—but other than that, everything seemed fine.

He grabbed his head, swearing under his breath. A rhythmic throbbing had begun, heavy and loud, almost like someone was striking a large drum right next to his ear.

He clutched the countertop with all he had, knuckles turning white. He stared down his reflection. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing—that, and the water that was still running.

For the second time, and probably not the last, he wondered: What the hell was that?

He grabbed a hand towel, throwing it into the sink, soaking it into the cold water. The countertop looked nice; maybe it was some sort of tile. He wasn't knowledgeable on these sorts of things.

That dream… it had felt so real.

No, he had already determined that it wasn't just a dream. The vision in the forest, what he had seen when he had almost died, the nightmare he had lived all day long. No, he knew that this was something more. The only problem was that he didn't know what that meant.

God, he wanted to scream!

He had to stop himself—one of his canine teeth found its way to his lower lip, biting down on it and halting the action before he could complete it. Too late did he realize that he had never done that before. He had, however, seen Naruto do it once or twice.

His teeth gnashed. Why the fuck was he having these dreams? It had all started in the woods with Pyrrha. She'd, she'd…

His eyes widened, his jaw went slack, and he fell back onto the toilet next to him. His legs felt numb and he couldn't do anything but stare down at his hands, the sight of them going blurry.

Was he... crying?

His hand moved up to his face. Yeah, he was crying.

So he sat there, bawling in a way that was unbecoming of a hero, but that didn't matter.

He was no hero.

His hands balled into fists. Why did this have to happen to him? Why was he the one who had to experience this!?

It wasn't fair!

 _'Well that's just how it goes, y'know? Life isn't always fair.'_

Jaune looked up, scrubbing away the tears from his face. What was that? Who had spoken?

His eyes cleared and he focused on the person in front of him. He had hoped that his vision betrayed him.

It hadn't.

 _'Yo, what're moping around for?'  
_  
Blue met blue, neither blinking. Seconds faded into minutes, but Jaune couldn't speak, couldn't formulate the words that he wanted to use.

 _'You just gonna stare? Didn't your parents teach ya' that staring is impolite?'  
_  
Naruto Uzumaki, or at least the spectral form of him, waved his hand in front of Jaune's face, the ghost-like apparition all but transparent to Jaune's eyes.

It was an impressive sight, if Jaune was honest. Seeing the hero from the fight, the hero that he had seen through the eyes of; it felt humbling.

Even if said hero was only a remnant of who he once was.

 _'Oi! Are you even listening to me?!'  
_  
Jaune blinked, looking at the wavering form of Naruto in front of him. A sense of calm washed over him; calmer than he had felt all day. A smile came to his face, his hand moving to the back of his head in order to scratch it. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

He was far too calm for the situation. Jaune knew that something about this wasn't normal, knew that something was inherently wrong, but it was if his mind didn't care.

Naruto blinked, his ethereal form shimmering and the white tile behind him showing strong through him.

 _'Ah, you're finally listening to me now!'_ Naruto exclaimed, a grin pulling at his lips.

What in the world?

 _'So, now that I've got your attention,'_ Naruto said, his voice coming out distorted and resembling a ghost out of a game. _'What seems to be bothering you?'  
_  
Anger replaced the calm in almost an instant. Indescribable anger filled Jaune Arc as he looked at the form of his nightmare incarnate. "Problem?" he asked, all but spitting the word. "My problem is that you've invaded my life! My problem is that I'm seeing your memories! My problem is that I don't even know what the fuck is going on!"

His voice hadn't picked up like it usually would when he became distraught; instead it had grown fiercer, more demanding, like it was cut from stone.

Naruto continued to watch him. He made no movements, but his face had become harder, more serious. _'I've done nothing. All you're doing is hiding from the reality that you're too afraid to face. You know why I'm here, you just won't admit it to yourself.'  
_  
Jaune Arc had always considered himself level-headed; he had always considered himself someone who played things safe.

In that moment Jaune Arc lost control.

His teeth gnashed and he jumped at the spectre—but the point was moot as he fell through it and onto the cold tile.

Jaune hit the ground hard. Turning, he couldn't find a trace of Naruto Uzumaki; it was if he had never been there to begin with.

Jaune Arc swore under his breath, standing and trodding back over the sink.

His hands clutched at his skull; the throbbing from earlier had returned. Heavy and low, like the entire world was shaking with him.

He had never felt so alone, so ruined over nothing! Never in his life had he felt like he had made a mistake as great as this one. Never had he made a mistake as grave as faking his way into this school.

Both of his hands clenched into fists and slammed onto the countertop.

Was this his punishment? Was this some sort of retribution that had been thrust onto him for the sins that he had committed in coming here?

He wanted to laugh; he wanted to scream, but most of all he wanted to forget—forget that this had ever happened, forget that his life had spiraled into a mess so large, fallen into a pit so deep, that he was unsure if he would be able to claw his way back out.

Was this all that he was going to do?

"Jaune! Are you okay?"

The voice of Pyrrha tore through the haze that had fallen over him. His vision cut away from the mirror; it cut away from the blue eyes that were staring back into his own—eyes that very much resembled the ones that he had just seen—and he realized that his fingers had dug into his hands, breaking through his aura and making them bleed. They healed fast enough.

The sink was still running. He wasn't sure why that mattered, but for some reason, it stuck out in his mind. Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the door and tried for a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Ha! Not even he believed that. His voice sounded so weak, so pathetic, that he was certain Pyrrha would push the issue.

"Okay Jaune, just try to get a little sleep, will you?" The question caught him off guard. Her voice had sounded so sincere, so worried.

And then another realization dawned on him, one that he felt was worse than everything else. The realization that he had a team that relied on him now.

Jaune felt awful. He heard her footfalls, signifying that she had returned to bed. He was here, somewhere that he didn't belong, but the worst part was that he was putting these people in danger—putting his team into a bad situation by his close proximity.

He couldn't leave the school. What would happen to them? It wouldn't be fair for anything to befall them because of the mistakes that he had made, the lies that he had told.

The words of Naruto Uzumaki rang through his head one more time.

 _'I've done nothing. All you're doing is hiding from the reality that you're too afraid to face. You know why I'm here, you just won't admit it to yourself.'  
_  
Those words… they meant a lot. He was just uncertain of their depth.

Jaune was stuck, a rock and a hard place didn't even begin to explain the situation he was in. He faced the sink, turning off the water, and letting out a dejected sigh.

He wasn't a hero, only a fraud.

 **Chapter End:**

 **That's done now. Hope you all enjoyed it. The last chapter _seemed_ to be well received, but it also received a lot of hate. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.**

 **Feel free to review; each and every one that I receive is appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**

 **Yeah, this chapter is finally out. Sorry about it taking so long, but with exams and work I've been fairly busy. Hopefully I'll be able to get more content out during May.**

 **I'm not sure when Progeny will be released; I'm having a lot of issues with what I want at the moment. The fic is pretty much planned, but I can't seem to get the words on the page. My original plan for it was to store up chapters over summer and release them once every two weeks for a period of time, but we'll have to see.**

 **If you're here to complain about me not updating what you want to read, please don't bother.**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter!  
**

* * *

The haunted never sleep.

The ghosts of the past hunted Jaune. Never leaving his trail, they followed his scent, biting at his heels and drawing closer. He tried to sleep, but they forced him awake; he tried to run, but they pursued.

Even now, he could hear the pitter-patter of footsteps. Hot and feral breath brushed against his neck. Goosebumps cropped along his arms, forcing his hair on end.

In a situation like this, all he could do was rely on the advice of his father. It was almost like the voice whispered in his ear, sharing truths that he hadn't heard in ages.

' _Whenever you're in a nasty situation, Jaune, don't forget to breathe.'_

So that's what he did.

In and out, in and out, in and out - he couldn't smell anything bar the beast behind him: wet fur, rancid breath, rotten blood, stench of death.

' _So, what is it you're doing exactly?'_

The world turned on top of itself. The trees that bit into him as he ran, the gravel that shifted under his feet, the foul odor on his tail - all melted away, replaced by something simpler, something more _human_.

The library that he remembered seemed so drab in comparison to the midnight trail that he'd just lived.

' _Are you done now?'_

The voice was different from the one that offered him advice. Instead of the hard, yet loving, tone of his father, this was sharper and young. Breath steadying, he didn't make a move to meet it. Jaune remained seated, settled, _rooted_ in his position, staring down at the book in front of him.

Why bother to greet it?

It wasn't real.

How could it be?

Hands struggling forward, shaking, fingers flipping the page of the book. He tried to focus on the words, tried to read them, to understand - they blurred. His head ached and he swayed in his seat. Vision narrowing and stomach turning and mind racing - the words grew and grew and grew. Dry ink of the page came forward in a rush, meeting his face, sending him to the floor. His body crumpled.

' _Well, that was something.'_

A groan escaped Jaune's lips. His eyes closed, lids irritated by the desert-dry texture.

How long had it been since he blinked? He couldn't remember.

Pushing himself up onto his arms, world shaking, his eyes met those of the spectre that haunted him through the haze. He fell, face meeting cold stone, the marble and his body becoming ungracefully reacquainted.

The clock of the library struck in the distance, signaling the hour. The light of the moon filtered through one of the large glass windows, but he couldn't _see_ anything. The world narrowed, shrunk, compressed and flattened.

Only one thing invaded his vision.

' _Finished?'_

Jaune grit his teeth and ground his jaw. He thought about his situation, about how he could resign himself to his fate, or lay there like a slug and continue to play dead.

The second option sounded more appealing.

He rolled onto his back and pain shot up his shoulder. Eyes clamped, fists clenched, heart throbbed, body burned: he hissed, thoughts racing and stumbling over one another as he tried to understand.

Was it so wrong to want to be a hero?

Was it so wrong to want to protect those he cared for?

Was it so wrong to want to follow in the footsteps of his father?

' _No, it isn't.'_

One of Jaune's eyes cracked, opening, _seeing_ the world - almost as if for the first time. A part of him that he'd never known before, scared and weak and _defenseless_ , reared its head, killing any clarity that he'd tried to obtain.

 _Thud, thud, thud._

The rhythmic sound of footsteps grew nearer. He watched through the murk, vision narrowing down to a pinhole.

Whites, blues, and greens came together and faded off into bleak lines. Fog rolled at the feet of the apparition. It tore through the smoke, the sound persisting.

 _Thud, thud, thud._

He wanted to look away, wanted to stand and run, wanted to seek any vestige of hope - but all he could do was lay there and clamp his eyes shut.

"It isn't real. It isn't real. It isn't real."

He repeated the words over and over, like a mantra. Heart pumping faster and faster - footsteps growing louder and louder against the cold tile.

 _Thud, thud, thud!_

And then, just as soon as it began, it stopped.

He raised his head, one eye cracking open. Was it too much to hope? Was he safe?

He'd come here for a chance to get away and hide from the ghost that gnawed at the crumbling remains of his sanity. The library once held the light of the one that followed, the one that badgered, the one that _plagued_ his very being. The beast all but disappeared, leaving nothing - not even its scent.

Now, not even the light from the sun cut the dark of the early morning.

Was it morning yet? He wasn't sure.

His legs remained weak, unable to stand, but he looked up, finding the clock. Light from the moon filtered in through the large and ornate windows, reflecting off of the surface of the glossy floor.

"Ten past two?"

His jaw slackened.

Two days.

Two entire days he'd been awake.

He took hold of the chair next to him, yet he couldn't pull himself to his feet. Arms quaking and body trembling and breath hitching - Jaune Arc fell once more to the cold tile below him. It wasn't worth the effort to try to stand now.

His eyes closed, but before the embrace of sleep took hold, he could see the face of the one that brought him so much fear.

Naruto Uzumaki stared back at him - a reflection meeting itself.

Yet even now, Jaune couldn't tell if he was the shade or the one looking in the mirror.

' _I'll see you after you rest a bit. We still have a lot to talk about, y'know?'_ His head tilted to the side. _'You'll only be gone for a bit. You won't be able to run from me forever.'_

And as the last light faded, the little that the moon offered, the words of his haunter played over and over in his head, _rolling_ in his mind.

The strongest of his fears were realized.

After all, why would the greatest hero wish to break bread with the greatest fraud?

* * *

Blood and water made different sounds when they hit stone.

Each time the red liquid struck the ground, he could hear how defined it was - every drop carried a weight to it that further contrasted it from the sound that he knew as 'normal'.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

His eyes drifted from the crimson pool to the person above him. His face fell, a gasp left his lips, and his hands clenched into tight fists.

He spoke, words forced out in a barely audible whisper.

" _Why?"_

Sasuke Uchiha - his best friend and rival - stood before him, needles protruding out of him like he was some sort of pincushion.

Mirrors of ice surrounded them at every angle, but in each one the reflection of Sasuke stood out. From the iron liquid at his feet to the senbon in his neck, there was so much to take in, so much to understand.

But there was one thing that caught Naruto's eye, one thing that stood out to him more than anything else.

The Uchiha fan.

It was something that he was familiar with. For years now he had stared at Sasuke's back like it was a wall for him to climb, digging his nails into the caulk - the beds busting and bleeding - Naruto tried to climb higher in a chance to match his friend.

But the one time that it mattered, the one time when he couldn't fail, he had done just that.

His eyes watched Sasuke's back, just as they always did - the red and white seeming so high, so unreachable.

If only he'd been stronger. If only he'd tried harder. If only he hadn't been so _weak_!

"I always hated you."

A cough bubbled from Sasuke's throat, feet slipping and sliding on his own blood. He stumbled and fell backwards.

He wasn't sure when he moved, but Sasuke was in his arms, body devoid of heat. He spoke, his voice cracking as he choked back a sob.

"W-why me?" he questioned, hands trembling. "I never asked for any of this!"

The fire in Sasuke's eyes died. His face was so pale - so deathly pale - but even now that stupid smirk still pulled at his lips. "I don't know… My body just moved on its own."

Jaune's eyes widened. The pulse at his fingertips stopped. Short and ragged gasps left his throat. The one time he couldn't afford to fail, and he had done just that.

His rational mind rolled in on itself. A part of him kept yelling that this wasn't happening, that this wasn't real, but none of that mattered. This person in his arms - this cold, lifeless, and dead person - was all too real.

A voice spoke. One that he'd never wished to hear again.

' _ **Yes boy, use my power.'**_

The world bled red.

Anger - hot and fiery and _fevered -_ took hold. He tried to fight back, but every time he breathed he could _taste_ malice. It entered him, _corrupting_ him.

The rage was toxic; the rage was addicting.

"I'm going to _kil_ _ **l you**_ _!"_

He had never spoken with such conviction. His voice warped, layered, but he paid it no mind. No, something larger was in front of him.

He locked eyes with the boy in the mirror. The executioner of his best friend stood before, beside, behind, and above - but he knew which one he wanted. The rat was right there, shaking in his ice hole, hiding from his hunter.

The chase was on.

Naruto - no, Jaune - rushed forward, low to the ground. This person, this _vermin,_ needed to die!

Needles flew, and he roared. He bolted towards the mirror, towards his goal - but the image faded and left nothing in its place.

His opponent moved.

He turned, body shifting, eyes watching. Where was he? _Where was he where was he_ _ **where was he?**_ A change in the air, a shift in pressure above and behind was all he noticed before his shoulders erupted in pain.

Jaune grit his teeth, sinking his canines into his bottom lips, face contorting into a silent snarl. This? This was nothing.

Pushing outwards with something that wasn't quite physical, the needles dislodged themselves, flying away, spinning erratically. All reflections disappeared, his prey ousted.

He dashed, crushing the ice with his fist, eyes darting, _searching_ for his _kill_. A fraction of a second was all he needed to dodge the attack coming from above. Spinning away, he slammed his hand onto the ground, stopping his motion.

The masked face of his opponent turned towards him before he tried to sprint back to his mirrors.

He wasn't going to get away!

Jaune raced, hands pushing off of stone, frame low. He was _so close._ Ten feet away, five feet, one foot. His hand snapped forward, catching hold.

He yanked, jerked, _wrenched_ the arm that he'd caught, pulling it, sending his fist into the face of his catch.

The clean response of his fist tearing through the porcelain mask was oh so satisfying.

The body flew, turning and tumbling, crashing through one of the mirrors. It struck the ground and rolled, the cracked remains of the mask falling away.

He inhaled sharply. The scent of blood that hit his nostrils forced a growl. Slow and steady. His nose caught something else, something familiar, something that he couldn't quite remember.

Only when his fist approached skin did he realize why.

His fist froze, pale knuckles inches away from Haku's face.

"Why did you stop? I killed your precious friend, yet you can't kill me?"

And just like that, the anger surged - dulled, but still present. His fist collided with Haku's face, smashing him to the ground.

He looked down at the person below him.

Could he do it? Could he really kill someone that he cared about?

The worst part was that he didn't think he had a choice.

* * *

Pyrrha Nikos hated her insecurities.

She tried to hide them and put up a front, but she knew that they crept through. She was the invincible girl. It was a title that she hated, yet it also gave her a pretense that she almost appreciated.

Almost.

Nothing was perfect, and she knew that her armor had cracks.

She also knew that hers were showing.

Her heavy footsteps echoed as she climbed some of the many stairs of Beacon, ascending two (sometimes even three) at a time. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the many corridors, and her feet carried her faster and faster - only one thing on her mind.

Where was he? Where was Jaune Arc?

He'd never come in last night. She had waited, and he never came. She stayed up all night, yet he hadn't appeared.

Something gnawed at her then.

The hallway before her narrowed, thinning as it extended before her in a long stretch - never ending. Her legs pumped, heart throbbing.

When did she start sprinting?

She couldn't breathe - _she couldn't breathe._ She stopped, hunched over, almost falling. Her hands braced themselves on her knees and she tried desperately to get a grip on herself.

Inhale through her nose, release through the mouth. Repeat. It was a practiced action, one that she always used to steady herself before combat. It was calming, therapeutic in a way.

After all, familiarity brought comfort, and what was more comforting than an action she had done hundreds of thousands of times?

Just like every other fight, she would win this one.

Her back straightened, body bending upright. Eyes opened and mind cleared and senses sharpened: an air returned to her, one that she was glad to have back. She strode forward, footsteps once more echoing throughout the halls of Beacon.

She would find Jaune.

There was no question about it. Her newly-found team had existed for less than a week, and she would not allow a fracture to form between them.

Not now, not ever.

Her pace was sharp, but something seemed wrong. It gnawed at her, ate at her, and as she traveled through the halls, she could _feel it_.

The halls held an almost haunting quality.

She wasn't sure what it was, but the temperature drop. Her body tightened, and senses sharpened:

She could smell the disinfectant used to scrub the tiled halls, see the darkness that never ended, _taste_ the tension in the air, and she could hear -

\- something heavy hit the floor.

She didn't think; she didn't fret - she moved.

What was that sound? What just happened?

She heard it again, more quiet, but still present. She stopped before the large oak doors of the library. The sound... it had come from there.

Brow furrowing, her hand pushed aside the already opened door.

She was met with an abyss. Shadow curled out, tainting the walls, floors, and tile around her - latching out like tentacles, dragging everything into the ceaseless void.

Pyrrha steeled herself. She was the invincible girl. She didn't have time to fear something like the dark.

She stepped forward.

The seconds faded into minutes as she moved through the library. Her eyes darted back and forth, attempting to adjust to the little light of midnight.

It was then that she saw him.

On the ground - body limp, looking dead - Jaune Arc lay there trying to get up. Even across the room she could see him strain, see him rise, see him _fail_.

She moved forward, unsure of her step. No longer did the heavy footfalls of the hall resound in the quiet library, but soft and timid movements. She tried to draw nearer, yet something ate her; she tried to help him, but something stopped her.

Jaune's eye cracked open, brilliant blue revealing itself.

Yet, even now, something seemed off.

No, something seemed _wrong_.

The light of the moon lay heavy on the ground, but she found herself cloaked in the shadow that opposed Jaune. It was a divide, one that separated the two of them, contrasting as night and day.

But when he barred his teeth like some sort of cornered animal, she felt something unclear. It poked at her, _nettled,_ yet she didn't understand. His eye closed and her heart calmed.

What was wrong with him?

She carried herself forward. One step, two steps, three steps: Pyrrha noticed his eye (the one that she could see) open before clamping shut.

 _"It isn't real. It isn't real. It isn't real."  
_  
He spoke, mumbled to himself more than anything. He continued to lie there, the words coming forward in a rush, falling over one another.

Pyrrha watched him. Hey brow furrowed, and she drew a hand up to her face, biting on her lower lip. "Jaune? Are you alright?"

Her words came out in a whisper. She raised such a question, brought it forward, and left it out in the air - yet she was afraid to hear the answer, afraid to hear if he would even respond to her.

Jaune ignored her, continuing to repeat: _"It isn't real. It isn't real. It isn't real."_

She took several more steps forward, stopping short just in front of the light, afraid to progress any further. Jaune looked like some sort of cornered animal. Eyes darting, hands shaking, teeth gnashing, body clutching - he panted, ready to lash out at anything that came near him, anything that _hunted_ him.

He tried to stand.

Perhaps it was some fleeting moment of clarity. Perhaps it was something else. He rose on shaky feet, attempting to stand, and fell back onto his face, the table and chair flipping over with him.

Pyrrha wanted to move, wanted to _help_ , but something that she was unfamiliar with, dark and foreign, made itself known.

Fear.

Never in a million years did she think that she would _fear_ Jaune - fear her team leader. But here she stood, with knees locked and hands quivering.

The pale light of the moon faded away, the gap between the two of them disappearing. She took a short step forward after his head hit the ground. His breathing slowed, and his consciousness faded.

"Jaune?"

When she heard no reply, a breath - one that held so tight in her chest - released. She moved forward, taking his arm and wrapping it around her shoulder.

"Don't worry Jaune, everything will be okay."

She wasn't sure who she was talking to. Something bit at her chest when she moved a hand up to wipe away a tear.

She had to remain vigilant; she had to remain strong.

After all, she was invincible.

* * *

' _We Shinobi are simply tools. What I wanted was his blood, not him._

I have no regrets.'

Jaune thought about the words, mulled them over and over in his mind. He stared at the sword (buried and tarnished and _abandoned_ ) with one thought: Kubikiribōchō would sit atop this hill, and much like its user remain here - forgotten.

Was it better to live alone and hated, or die with meaning - with purpose?

Not even he knew.

Wind passed by, tousling his hair. It was cold. Much like his friend; much like Haku.

 _'He was a boy as pure as the snow.'_

Too bad Haku was now just as frigid.

The dirt and grass of the hillside was too low a place for him. He was so pure, so beautiful, and he deserved something more.

He deserved so much more.

But Jaune knew, these gravestones would wither away with time. Wood would crumble to the dirt and breathe life anew, but Haku and Zabuza wouldn't even exist except as memories in Naruto's heart.

But even then, that would fade.

Was this the fate of all Shinobi?

Was it so wrong to be a hero?

Was it so wrong to desire to protect his friends, desire to protect those like Haku, desire to protect those he _cared for_?

The question struck him in its depth. It was if the world stopped.

The stream quieted, the birds hushed, and everything halted for his question. Even through the silence, nature itself _screamed_ at him.

 _'Find the answers yourself!'_

And just like that, nature restarted anew - seemingly satisfied with the conclusion he drew. He snorted, crouched, and went for one of the snacks that they had left. It seemed like such a waste to throw away food.

"What are you doing? That's bad karma!"

A slap on the wrist was all the warning he got. Sakura shot him a glare, her expression turning downwards. "But Kakashi-sensei, were those two correct about ninja?"

Kakashi shifted from left to right, placing one of his hands on the back of his neck. "A shinobi isn't supposed to pursue his own goals."

He leaned against a nearby tree, eye hooded. He looked tired.

Perhaps he was tired - tired of all the missions, tired of all the fighting, tired of all the death that followed him like uncleanable filth. It stuck to him, clung to him, and never came off no matter how hard he tried, how hard he wished it wasn't the case.

Jaune had never thought about it before, but he _knew_ that Kakashi had seen a lot.

He'd shown them as much that day at the memorial stone.

Maybe if Jaune had put more stock into his words then, Haku would still be alive.

"Becoming the country's tool is the most important thing, that's the same for the Leaf Village," Kakashi said, standing upright and glancing at the grave.

He didn't seem bothered by the sight.

Why should he be?

Jaune had no idea how many times Kakashi had seen something similar.

"Each and every ninja has to live while dealing with that issue. Just like Zabuza… and that boy."

The leaves of the trees swayed in the crisp wind of the morning, but this time it didn't feel as biting. Staring at the flowers on their graves, Jaune's hands clenched and unclenched. Eyes hardening and knuckles cracking and back straightening - he decided, no resolved.

"I'm going to be a ninja in my own way."

The words weren't loud, yet they carried throughout the clearing. The water roared, the birds chirped, and the forest itself came to life.

Jaune steeled himself, walking away from the grave-site.

It was time that the world prepared for Jaune Arc.

* * *

It was time that the floor prepared for Jaune Arc.

One second he was floating in a sea of endless white, and the next he was falling. His head hit something hard, immovable, _concrete_ \- his brain jolted and shook.

Even through the light pain, he couldn't help but think how close he and the floor were after the last couple of days. If this kept up, he'd have to buy it a drink.

He struggled to rise. His legs were lead; his feet were stone. The wall was his crutch, and as his nails bit into the caulk, he rose, _climbed_ higher. The red of the brick and the white of the room might have created an air of nostalgia, but it wasn't a good feeling.

He _hated_ the familiar climb.

Grinding his teeth back and forth, he clashed with the wall - fighting against it, surging to new heights. He faced forward and leaned back, the wall his only support.

He stared at the white tile.

It was different than the white that he remembered; it lacked the red stain that he couldn't forget.

After all, even the heavens had cried - cried for Haku. A death so cold for the warmest of hearts wasn't fitting, yet it had happened all the same.

Tight knuckles struck hard stone.

They cracked, broken and bloodied. Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he protect _anything?_

' _Why don't you do something about it?'_

The voice was a whisper. It sounded familiar, yet so distant. He looked up at the light, and as his head throbbed and pulsed and pounded, he remembered.

He remembered two lives: in one he'd dreamed of becoming a hunter, and in the other he dreamed of becoming a leader.

Yet in both he had fought for acceptance, fought for what he desired but never had.

In both lives he was a failure.

He _wasn't_ Naruto Uzumaki, but now he understood their connection. If one became a hero why couldn't the other?

He looked down at the gnarled skin on the back of his hand and began his crawl.

Naruto might have walked away from Zabuza's and Haku's graves, but Jaune _dragged_ himself along the wall.

Inch by inch, foot by foot - each movement _stabbed_ him. The entire time he could only think of one thing about his rise, about his change.

It was a fitting start.

* * *

 **AN:  
**

 **Huge shout-out to my Beta, Enbi. She's amazing and she was able to teach me so much about writing. She just published a KakaSaku novella on her profile, and even though it isn't finished, I highly recommend reading it for some of the best Kakashi characterization that I've ever seen. Even if you don't like the pairing, I implore you to read it; the writing is phenomenal.**

 **(edited) Also, this is late, but I'd like to give a shout-out to Infamous Storm as well. He's been helping me with Progeny, and he also gave me some sound criticism on this chapter. He's a great guy that makes great content, and you should go check him out if you want.**

 **Review if you desire.**


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